


You Only Live Q

by internetname



Series: From Q, With Love [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This an NC-17 P/Q story, fourth in a series: "From Q, With Love," and "Live and Let Q" and "Q is Forever. Picard and Q don't know who they are or how they got into this cave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Only Live Q

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago under the name Veroneeka. I need to thank the incredible patience and kindness and general wonderfulness of Ruth Gifford, the beta-reader from Heaven.

The man awoke slowly, aware of a discomfort bordering on pain. His body was twisted somehow, bent to the side at the waist, his legs curled around, the muscles straining unpleasantly. 

_Have I gone blind?_ he wondered, though, in point of fact, he wasn't certain he had ever been able to see. This darkness was all he had ever known. 

_Yet surely this cannot be,_ he thought (and realized this was a rather formal way of thinking thoughts to oneself). _If I had always been unable to see, I wouldn't find it odd._

A noise and vibration assaulted him, deep and almost theatrically expressive of pain. His body instinctively jerked back at the sound, and then he discovered that he wasn't blind at all. His face had been pressed into the chest of another man. 

Blinking furiously while his protesting muscles tried to move his body into a more acceptable position, he stared at this other, still unconscious man who had moaned from his sleep. Dark hair, strong, almost sulky features, dressed, as he himself was, in a black jumpsuit with a band of gray over the shoulders and red turtleneck. His long body was also twisted around, as though he had fallen from the sky in a heap. 

But an automatic glance up showed that they couldn't have fallen from the sky, as they were in some sort of large cave. 

He finally worked himself into a sitting position and looked down at his own...was it a uniform? It felt like one. He wore nothing else...except, his hands found, four little pips at his collar. The other man had these pips as well. What did that mean? 

Well, obviously they worked together. And somehow they had had some sort of accident, something which had hurt them both. He should check his colleague over, make sure he was okay. 

But he seemed to have little understanding of medicine. Hesitantly, he put his ear to the man's chest and listened to the solid thumping of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Next, he straightened out the man's legs and rolled him completely on his back, eliciting another unconscious moan. He found he was staring intently into the man's face, trying to find something familiar in it. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing there. Perhaps he didn't know the man before he had lost his memory. 

Because, of course, that's what had happened to him, the man was sure. He obviously had some sort of life. Whatever accident had dropped them into this cave had momentarily taken that life from him, but he was sure that he would remember it in time. 

He was certain of it. 

At a sudden thought, he felt over his body carefully, looking for signs of injury. But he seemed to have suffered no blow to the head -- _I haven't much hair,_ he thought --- no real damage to his body other than the soreness of his muscles and a slight headache. 

Next, feeling rather self-conscious, he checked over the body of his companion, seeing no blood, feeling nothing broken. Rolling the man's head carefully between his hands, he stared once again into that stranger's face, and thought it rather...childish, petulant, as he frowned in his sleep. And even as he stared into that face, the eyes opened to reveal dark orbs of almost indignant confusion. 

The mouth worked a minute, then croaked, "Who are you?" 

"I was rather hoping you might be able to tell me," the sitting man said. "And tell me about yourself as well." 

The man stared at him, then worked into his own half-reclining position and looked around the cave. This was strange, though he could remember nothing to compare it to. Perhaps it only felt strange. Perhaps it was normal and people did this all the time. 

There was nothing here but sand and rocks. Dim light was coming from around some large boulders in front of them, and there was a slight whoosh of air. He sensed they weren't far from the entrance to this cave, wherever it was. 

Then he looked back at the man he shared this odd existence with. He was an older man, bald, compact and somewhat grouchy looking. His eyes seemed alight with authority, and he felt a strong urge somehow to undermine that sense of command, but... 

"Did you bring us here?" he asked. 

"I might be able to answer that, perhaps, if I knew where 'here' is." 

The man raked one hand through his hair, then rubbed at his eyes. "This is strange. I have no recollection of anything beyond this moment. I think I should find that terrifying." 

"Do you?" 

He shrugged, and again the other man noticed a theatricality in the gesture. "Not really. In fact, I feel curiously liberated. Perhaps we have both forgotten something we didn't want to remember." 

"Whatever happened to us, I doubt this was voluntary." 

"Well, there's no way to know, is there?" 

The men looked at each other, a vague hostility exchanged, and then both seemed to feel it was time to stand up. 

_Hmmm,_ one of them thought as they smoothed out their uniforms, _I'm taller._

"I suggest we see if we can get out of here," the shorter one said, not bothering to look up to make eye contact before he turned towards the source of light. 

"Your suggestions sound a lot like orders." 

The man turned to look at him. "If you've got a better idea how we should proceed, I'd be glad to hear it." 

"We don't even know that 'here' is a place we want to leave. Perhaps we ran into this place as a refuge. Perhaps whatever we're hiding from in 'here' is waiting for us to go out 'there.'" 

"There's hardly any point in just waiting around in here." 

"We don't know that." 

"We don't know anything!" 

"We know we were subjected to some sort of attack. We've both had someone or something take our memories away." 

"Perhaps whoever it was who attacked us put us here." 

"And maybe that means we should wait for them to return so we can figure out what they want." 

"Perhaps it means all sorts of thing, but I'm not going to stand around doing nothing. I want to find out where we are and what's going on, and from what I can see none of the answers to my question is in this cave." 

"Oh, let's go! Anything would be better than standing here arguing with you." 

The shorter man fought down a wave of unaccountable rage at this childish rudeness, turned on his heel and headed again for what he assumed was the mouth of the cave. He heard the other following as he wove a path through the boulders, around the wall of rock. 

And suddenly into the light. Blinking, he walked forward into a hillside, pleasant and green, with the yellow sun shining warmly. There were trees and grass and flowers, all bright and clean, like some sort of park rather than a wilderness. There was even a path leading off deeper into the woods. 

"Were we on vacation or something?" the other man said, surprising him unpleasantly with the knowledge that they'd been thinking along similar lines. 

"Does it look familiar to you at all?" 

"No. You?" 

The shorter man shook his head. "I keep waiting for something to be familiar, this place, you, myself...nothing. It's as if I truly came into existence only a few minutes ago." 

"And yet we both know that's not right." 

He frowned at the thoughtful note. "Significance?" 

"Why, that we're not lifeforms for whom this is normal, of course. We have lives, and pasts, and probably a good deal of memories, especially you. We just can't get them right now." 

"What do you mean especially me?" 

The taller man shrugged, smirking. "Well, you're not exactly young, going by what's left of your hair." 

"You're no teenager either." 

"I'm younger than you, and if these are military uniforms, we would seem to be of the same rank." 

"This conversation is pointless." 

"You're really a bossy little cuss, aren't you?" 

"And you are a terminal irritant." 

A sudden noise whipped them both around, one scanning left, the other right, until the bird which had flapped its way into the thicket raised itself up again, and they relaxed. 

_Strange looking bird,_ the shorter man thought, then wondered why he'd automatically kept himself from voicing the harmless comment. 

"That's an Origion hawk," his companion noted with a frown. He shrugged almost self-consciously. "Perhaps I'm an ornithologist." 

"Origion? Those are oak trees. Do oak trees grow on Origia?" 

"I don't know, do I?" 

"You knew about the hawk." 

"You knew about the tree, and it's a red oak, not just an oak." 

"Whatever sort of oak it is, they only grow on Earth or terra-formed colonies, but I've never heard of a colony --" 

A loud chittering cut into the barely formed argument, and in near unison the two men identified it as a Viridian squirrel. 

"So this must be some sort of park or preserve." 

"I suppose..." 

The shorter man frowned. "If you know something..." 

With another slightly theatrical move, the other put up his hands. "I think we know quite a bit between the two of us. What interests me more is what we don't know. There seem to be gaps." 

"You don't say." 

The taller man fought his own wave of disproportionate rage at that dry tone. "I do say. The gaps are specific, targeted. I know the name of every plant and animal and rock type I can see, and then some, but I don't know the name of the planet itself, or the name of whatever you and I are." 

"We're..." The impatient voice trailed off as the expressive face formed a complex frown. "We're...we're male." 

The other equally expressive face rolled its eyes before the deep voice drawled, "Are you sure? Perhaps the females of our species are short and bald." 

"Your memory gaps would seem to be more extensive than mine." 

The taller man suppressed a delighted smile, though he let it show just a bit. He had no idea why this was so much fun. Well, he did actually. Short, old, bald, his companion was still sexy as hell. Hmmm, perhaps he _was_ a female. 

Or at least, he was certainly going to suggest it a few more times. 

"I think we should follow that path," the taller one said. 

"What about our possible hidden enemy? That was your concern, as I recall." 

The sultry face seemed to reflect a broad variety of possible responses. "Why don't we try being disobedient first?" 

"What do you have in mind?" 

"The path leads to our right, as though it were planned out for us, as though this is some maze we're to follow. Why don't we just see what's to the left first?" 

"Assess the punishment?" The shorter man considered it, then realized he was resisting the idea only because of its source. Was he so thin-skinned he was going to sulk over that "female" comment? "Sounds sensible." 

Raised eyebrows were the only response before they turned left and walked towards the line of trees. They hadn't penetrated far, however, before the trunks grew too close together to allow passage. It was either down the path or back into the cave. 

The path was narrow but distinct, as though regularly and recently cleared by many tramping feet, yet they were both aware of a strangely unused cleanliness, as though the leaves had not yet collected dust, the rocks not yet completely settled into their places. The path twined on for quite a bit, and they noted several more species of wildlife from many different worlds. 

"Hmmm," said the shorter man finally, his baritone wry. "I believe that is our piece of cheese." 

They both stopped to look ahead to the cabin half-hidden by the low branches of ancient oak. It was perhaps ten foot square, with a window and one wide-open door. 

With a quiet grunt, the taller man strode forward while the other swallowed his objection and followed. It was ridiculous to drag their feet when forward was the only option. If only this didn't all feel so terribly wrong. His entire body was tight with the wrongness of this place. 

So it was more than somewhat deflating that the inside of the cabin revealed every sign of an interrupted camping trip. There was cooking and fishing gear, thermal blankets folded on a single bed, a first aid kit, several bottles of red wine, a few old-fashioned books and some information padds, a music box, a panel light, and an open bag of ration bars. 

"One of us is a reader," the taller man remarked, picking up a book to run his eyes over the title on the spine: _Solstice._ He hadn't read it. At a sudden thought, he turned to the first page and found a hand-written name. "Jean-Luc Picard," he muttered, then looked at his companion. "Sound familiar?" 

"Sounds French, whatever that's worth, but not familiar." He frowned, picking up one of the bottles. "Picard is on this label. I'd say one of us reads and makes wine." 

The other man quickly flipped through the other books, but only found the name Picard each time. They both looked through the padds -- all were how-to's on camping and fishing -- and the gear, but the only thing close to another name they found was an initial on one of the fishing rods and the tackle box: Q. 

"Quinten?" 

"Quartermain?" 

"Quinn?" 

"Quark?" 

"Q?" 

"What?" The hazel eyes glittered under the frown. 

"Q. You know, as a name. Maybe that's all you go by." 

"I'm not certain of anything about myself, except that I am definitely not called Q." 

"You'd rather be Jean-Luc Picard then?" 

"Oui." 

"Je parle aussi, mon ami." 

A pause, then. "I spoke it first." 

The taller man laughed, a remarkably rich sound. "All right. I'll be Q and you can be Jean-Luc." 

"Q." 

"What?" 

"Just getting used to it." A slight smile played around Jean-Luc's lips. "You look like a Q." 

"Well, you look like a Jean-Luc." He looked away from the amused expression to survey the room once again. It was nice to know they could get along when they needed to. "So you make wine and read. What do I do?" 

"It's your tackle box, so you must fish, and you know so much about the flora and fauna...perhaps you're a naturalist of some sort." 

"Doesn't sound very interesting." In fact, Q thought, nothing in this place interested him much at all, except his companion, somewhat. He found it hard to believe he was really here voluntarily. Surely there were better, funner places to be? 

"There must be water here," Jean-Luc was thinking aloud. "I'm going to continue on that path." 

"You do that, little mousy." 

"This could be what it appears, you know." 

"What?" Q sneered. "The two of us together on a fishing trip? And somehow we end up with selective amnesia. Besides, if we're on shore leave, why are we in uniform?" 

Picard thought that over, acknowledging once again that despite his companion's irritating manner he was quite intelligent. His own head felt rather mushy and he was trying to hide his desire to lay down for a little rest. In fact... 

Picard went to the small medical kit and drew out the tricorder before pointing it at himself. Yes, he nodded, there was definitely a deficiency in his blood sugar. He pointed the thing at Q. 

"What does it say?" 

"Nothing. It won't register you at all." 

Q looked smug. "Somehow I thought it wouldn't." 

Picard frowned. "Why?" 

The taller man shrugged. "I don't know, I'm sure. Tell me, Jean-Luc, does any of this feel right to you?" 

Picard slowly put down the tricorder and reached for a ration bar. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean does this feel natural? familiar? in any way at all?" 

Picard took a bite out of the bar, then nodded with confidence. "I've eaten one of these before." He held out a bar. "Want to try one? They're not so bad." 

The full upper lip curled. "No, thank you." 

"You have to eat." 

"Why? If I don't register on your tricorder why should I have to eat?" 

Picard shrugged and dropped the bar back into the bag. "If you're not hungry..." 

Q frowned at the paternal tone. He wanted to be gone, but somehow that didn't mean that he was gone. Shouldn't it mean that? Or did he really have to walk out of here? Snorting, he turned to the door, not caring whether the other followed or not. 

Outside, it was obviously turning to late afternoon, and a cool breeze was promising a chilly night. Q stomped down the path. It was actually quite lovely here, part of his mind noted. That only seemed to make it all worse. He absolutely refused to believe that he had come here willingly. Was his life really so bad that this was his idea of a good time? 

It wasn't far to the lake, and the view there was more than a little breathtaking, though only Picard acknowledged it. A line of trees heavy with summer green surrounded the clear water, itself reflecting with fidelity the few puffy white clouds in the deeply blue sky. 

"Even if we did come here on vacation," Picard mused, "surely we'd have with us some method of communicating with others." 

"Unless we're hiding from something. Perhaps the gear isn't for recreation, but for survival." 

Picard wanted to argue and suppressed it. "Perhaps." 

Q smiled to himself. Mr. Grumpy really was too much. Just when he was ready to dismiss the man, or believe he could predict him...Perhaps the two of them were friends after all. 

"But surely if we were in trouble we'd turn to our military organization for support, and if we were running from our own military organization we would have shed these uniforms." 

Q decided to be surprising too. "That seems logical." 

Both men looked out over the lake, and realized it was growing dark rather eagerly. 

"We'd better get back to the cabin while we can still see," Picard said. 

Something about being so practical and limited really bothered Q, and he almost sneered, but Jean-Luc wasn't saying anything that deserved to be sneered at, not really, and, his face drawn in its sulkiest lines, Q turned back down the path. 

Picard didn't understand his companion at all. The man seemed to have no understanding of the simple necessities of life like food and rest and being able to see. Had the man never been away from the comforts of technology? Surely in their normal life... 

But there was nothing. As hard as Picard tried, there wasn't even a suggestion of a memory regarding the life they had led before this one. It was beginning to feel both terrifying and perfectly normal to have nothing in his life but this hour or so he'd been here, on this planet, with Q. 

Picard looked ahead at the figure before him, winding its way up the path. The dark hair had been raked by those large hands more than once, and seemed a little messy, as though inviting... 

_My God, what am I thinking?_ Picard asked himself with no small concern. But he knew instinctively he wasn't the type to run from what scared him, and he forced his mind to follow the thought. 

That dark hair did look inviting. Just as those lips had seemed seductive, and those dark eyes had seemed almost wickedly sensual. 

_So I'm homosexual,_ Picard thought with surprise, for he'd felt quite a stirring before in thinking about women. But perhaps that simply meant he was bisexual. Were he and Q lovers? Had this been some sort of romantic get-away they'd been on? 

If so, Q was showing no signs of being attracted to him. That thought was rather...ego-deflating. Suddenly Picard realized he had no real idea what he looked like. He should have taken a look in that lake. 

With a shake, Picard pushed all those thoughts away. His appearance was certainly of little importance compared to whatever danger he and Q were facing. Q was quite right that their amnesia was too selective to be an accident. And it certainly made no sense that they should both suffer from it at the same time unless someone had done it to them. 

"Q," he said as the cabin came into sight. "Does it feel...correct to you that you can't remember things?" 

"Of course not." Q walked the rest of the way to the cabin in silence, then shrugged. "Well, a little. I don't feel there's anything wrong with me when I can't remember -- I can think it, but I can't _feel_ it." 

"It's like that for me too." They went inside and Picard walked to the light panel. With a wave of his hand over the surface, it began to glow welcomingly. Q frowned at it. "I know that I should be able to remember more, but only as if it were a bad habit. There are no flashes, no odd moments, no suggestions that anything is amiss. It's as if I came into existence in that cave, and while I know that can't be true..." The rest of Picard's statement was lost in a gargantuan yawn that took them both by surprise. 

"Excuse me." 

Q shrugged. "Go to sleep if you're tired. Nothing for us to do now." 

"I take it you're not feeling the need for sleep." 

Q's expression turned the most scornful Picard had yet seen it. Jean-Luc put up his hands. "Fine, fine, Q. But the rest of us seem to feel the need to sleep when the sun goes down." 

In surprisingly few motions, Picard had his boots off, his body horizontal, and a thermal blanket wrapped around himself. Q watched the actions in some puzzlement. The idea of wanting to do the same was ridiculous. He still wasn't hungry. He was certain he didn't eat or sleep. And yet Picard did. So they weren't of the same species, no matter their similar appearance and shared uniform. Why did that seem almost...disappointing? 

Q shook himself and looked out the still open door. He should shut it, keep in the warmth for Jean-Luc. 

And so he did, after he'd left the confines of the cabin and started back down the path. Surely there was some way to walk around the lake. 

  
Jean-Luc was running his hand down a long smooth curve. The touch of the fabric against his skin was rough and almost tickled, a little warning of touches to come. His body reacted to it completely, full of longing for more touches, more contact with the skin underneath that rough material. Smooth skin with muscles underneath, the feel of Q's skin -- 

Snorting, Picard awoke in the darkness of the cabin. The light panel must have been deactivated, and, faintly, he could hear insects droning and chippering. His body was warm with his own heat inside the thermal blanket, and yet the bed felt so empty. What did Q think of him? Were they lovers? Or perhaps they were friends, and he had been harboring some forbidden lust for his companion for years. Perhaps he'd brought him here in the hope of getting him tanked on the wine, and then pulling off his clothes and pushing him onto his stomach and then -- Wooo. He really needed to keep away from thoughts like that. His groin was starting to respond to them, and this cabin was pretty damn small, whether Q were here for the moment or not. 

Where was Q, anyway? Was the man really so unconcerned with simple needs like eating and sleeping? If so, then he wasn't a man. He and Picard must be from different species. 

And the thought, as sensible as it was, made him almost unbearably sad. What could possibly be between them if Q were so different that he didn't require basic physical functions? It was most unlikely such a creature would require sex when he didn't -- 

And then a mental picture of amazing clarity flashed into his mind: himself on all fours, ass high, while Q pumped him forcefully, tenderly, touching him and saying his name. He could almost see the sweat on Q's skin as his muscles clenched and released, hear the noises of their joining as they both moaned with pleasure. 

But he couldn't feel it -- couldn't imagine what it would feel like. Unlike with the food, there was no sense of familiarity, no certainty that he had been there before. The mental image -- as sharp as it was -- pictured him and Q from the outside looking on, not from his own perspective. It was a fantasy, not a memory. 

But he couldn't help wanting to fantasize further, holding his eyes shut tight as he thought of Q's large hands moving over his ass, reaching around to rub his nipples. Was he right in thinking that he could get Q in deeper if he spread his legs? It seemed sensible, but again he was hit with a feeling of unfamiliarity. 

A noise from the doorway alerted him, and he began to breathe with quietly intense depth, willing his erection down, as safely hidden as it and he were under the thermal blanket. 

The door opened and he saw Q's tall shape against the stars, and his breath caught. The simple way the man stood, his arrogance and balance, filled Picard with lust. It was an instinctive, mindless reaction to his form and presence, and made the man worry greatly about what sort of person he was. Did he react to others like this all the time? Did he have no control over himself? It was a disgusting thought. 

And yet when Q spoke Picard grew painfully hard. 

"I thought you were sleeping." 

Picard worked his tongue around his dry mouth before replying. "I was. A dream woke me." 

"Any memories in it?" 

"No. Pointless images." 

"Hmm. I've found a path around the lake, but I must admit it will be easier to walk it when there's sunlight. 

"You still feel no desire to sleep, then?" 

"None, I assure you." 

Despising himself, Picard was focusing equally on his companion and on his erection. It was incredibly arousing to hear that rich, sardonic voice in the night and lay here with his hard-on. And he'd better stop it, he told himself sternly, as there was no privacy here. He could come from listening to that voice alone. 

And that thought did it. Picard didn't care what kind of jerk he was with his memories intact, he wasn't going to keep on with this behavior. Quickly his erection abated as he grew truly angry with himself, struggling to keep it all out of his voice. 

"I'm afraid I still need it myself. Just as well, as we can do nothing constructive until the morning anyway." 

He may be without his memories but he wasn't some sort of sex fiend at the mercy of his emotions. Q was incredibly attractive and compelling. Fine. But he was a man (sort of) who deserved respect. After all, he'd be offended if Q were acting this way towards him. 

Oh, no. No, he wouldn't. 

"Then I'll wish you good-night, Jean-Luc," Q said softly as he turned to walk back outside. 

_Stay,_ Picard couldn't help wishing, before closing his eyes tight and forcing his body to relax completely, chasing down another hour or so of sleep. 

  
He was up just at dawn, and though he could find no sign of his companion he was not concerned. Primarily, he thought of his dreams, all sexual, all about Q. Munching down a ration bar and feeling his mood draped about him like a tightly woven cloth that teased the sensitive areas of his body, Picard tried to think of some way to alleviate his current...tension without betraying himself completely to Q. 

The solution, when he finally thought of it, was so simple he laughed aloud. Tossing the ration bar wrapper into the trash container in the corner, he almost ran down the path to the lake. Looking around quickly to make sure Q was not nearby, he stripped off the uniform and stood in the chill morning air in only his briefs, then tugged those off as well and waded quickly into the bracing water. The level was waist-deep for several feet, then moved up and over his shoulders before the bottom dropped off below his feet. It felt wonderful to swim. His muscles moved easily through the motions, and he knew he'd had some practice at this. Moreover, it eased the pressure in his groin considerably, and he knew with relief he would not have to resort to masturbating out here in the cool water. 

He spent quite some time in the water, swimming with strong strokes that refreshed him, floating on his back, diving down deep into the lake and then surfacing with joy. Perhaps this _was_ where he had come for a vacation. Was there any way in the world he and Q had had an accident to cause their amnesia? 

Q. With relief, he realized he had quite forgotten about his companion for several long minutes, and turned towards shore. 

Where Q stood, of course, watching him from beside his little pile of clothes. Picard tread water and wondered how long it would be before he drowned from exhaustion. There was absolutely no way in the universe he was going to wade naked onto shore while Q watched. 

"If you're through enjoying your little swim," Q called out, his voice carrying clearly in the morning air, "I thought we were going to walk around the lake and see about getting out of here." 

"Will do," Picard shouted back, not moving any closer. He could not see Q's expression, but he could _feel_ his smirk. 

So when Q turned suddenly and walked back up the path towards the cabin, Picard spent a long moment blinking in surprise before making his cautious way towards shore and his clothes, waiting for Q to pop out and laugh at him. 

Q stopped walking and scowled at the cabin. Ridiculous looking thing. What was he doing here? And why did he let Picard off the hook like that? It was a delightful opportunity to embarrass him, and he'd just walked away! This place must be getting to him, or perhaps he simply didn't want to alienate Picard completely because the man was his only company here. 

Disgusting...pathetic. He had to escape! 

Without saying a word, Picard walked by him and into the cabin, then emerged with two ration bars. 

"I suppose you're still not hungry?" 

Q sent him a withering glare, then spun and stomped to the path around the lake. To their mutual surprise, they walked for hours completely around the circumference without finding another path or saying a word. 

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep,_ Picard thought more than once as they walked. But what promises had he made here? He wondered if it were possible to feel more helpless. His body was in shape, his mind sharp, and he knew that this uniform was a part of his life. But what was that life? Was Q in it? Or was he alone? 

Nonsense, he told himself. Even if Q weren't in his life, he certainly wasn't alone. He must have friends. Maybe even family. Maybe even a wife. 

_No,_ he thought in horror. _Not a wife._

But he might have one. Children too. He tried to call up images, anything of his former life, but there was nothing, like always, like his whole life, there was nothing but waking up in the cave and the hours since then. 

They arrived back at the cabin in equally dark moods. 

"Well, no paths," Picard said as he headed into the cabin, thinking of resting and eating another ration bar (though they were definitely losing whatever appeal they may once have had for him), "but there were places we might try to get through the trees." 

"It's a cage," Q grunted. 

"I agree. And a maze. I think there's no question but that we did not come here voluntarily." Picard sat on the bed, put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "The problem is our lack of memory. We have nothing to fight with, nothing to know we should be working with. The only option I can see at present is further exploration." 

"You're tired already?" 

"I want to rest for a little while, yes." 

Q snorted and paced inside the cabin. "I can't believe you want to rest. All I want is to get out of here." 

"Show me the exit and I'll go. Until then, my feet are sore and I would like to rest a moment." 

Q frowned as Picard removed his shoes and rubbed his feet. He became aware of a detailed knowledge of the nerve endings and pressure points of the man's feet. In fact, he seemed to know quite a bit about the fuctionings of the man's entire body. Was Picard some sort of project for him? For a few moments he watched as Picard rubbed his feet, then sat back against the wall, his legs sprawled out on the bed before him, eating his third ration bar of the day. 

"You must be getting tired of those." 

Picard looked surprised, then nodded. "They lack a certain appeal." 

"Well, we've enough fishing gear to make the prospect of catching our own dinner seem likely. Do you want to give it a try? It's not late in the day yet, really." 

Picard looked up in surprise and was amazed at the force of the longing that went through him (almost as amazed as Q at the force of tenderness that went through _him_ ). Together, they fought off reactions to their feelings, not noticing the expressions that came and went across the other's face, until Picard answered, "I would like that." 

It took them a while to figure out what all the gear was for, especially when it came to the lures. But they got it all together eventually and headed for the lake in surreptitiously high spirits. 

"None of this feels remotely familiar," Picard noted as he cast from the shore in the light of midafternoon. In fact, while he felt strangely exhilarated standing next to the beautiful lake, fishing for his dinner with Q, his movements betrayed an awkwardness of a complete lack of muscle memory. It was just as well he hadn't tried to get sexual with Q, he thought wryly, if this fumbling were indicative of how he responded to new physical challenges. 

Oh dear. That wasn't the best thought to be thinking right now. 

Concentrating fiercely, he cast again, and watched with satisfaction as the lure "plopped" right into the water. 

There. Q was certain of it that time. Picard felt uncomfortable about him, had sent him the strangest sideways glance. Was the man...attracted to him? 

Perhaps. 

How amusing. 

"I seem to have caught something," Picard announced suddenly, his surprise evident as his fishing rod jerked in his hand. He tried to reel in the catch, and found the whole thing much more complicated than he had thought it would be. Still, as Q watched, laughing at him silently, he managed to struggle through it until he had a decent-sized fish raised up from the water. With a shrug, he got the creature onto the shore and watched it flop around for several moments before it seemed to give up and die. He wondered whether it would be any good to eat, and felt his mouth watering. 

_Pavlov's dogs,_ he thought, suddenly overwhelmed with his own familiarity with the ancient experiment. What did he do for a living, anyway? Who was he? 

And as he stood there watching his dinner die, he became aware of a hand on his shoulder. 

It wasn't much of a touch. Q's hand didn't move, didn't even press down hard. 

But it didn't have to. Picard felt that hand throughout his body, the warmth of it, the intimacy of it. Q was standing close behind him now, his breath warm on Picard's face, and he felt his whole body weakening and warming to that touch, that closeness. 

With delight, Q watched Picard's neck grow red. A giddy feeling of power rushed through him, and for the first time in his memory he felt completely stimulated and thoroughly awake. Grinning with evil intent, he leaned closer to Jean-Luc, right up to his left ear, and whispered, "Nice catch." 

Picard shuddered at the voice as it smoothed down his nervous system. His nipples had tightened against his uniform and he felt a stirring between his legs that could only lead to humiliation. This was horrible. His whole body was betraying him, and all he could do was stand there and plead silently for Q to stop touching him. 

Or touch him someplace else... 

Q frowned. This wasn't as much fun as he'd thought it would be. Picard was obviously responding to his touch, and the embarrassment the man felt was undeniable. But it wasn't bringing him the pleasure he'd expected. In fact, he was beginning to feel like a jerk, touching Picard like this, making him tremble. For all he knew, Picard was just responding to physical proximity to the only person in the universe he could remember. 

_For crying out loud,_ he told himself. _Have you nothing better to do than pick on someone who isn't even sure about his own name?_ Never mind that he wasn't sure about his own name either. This whole scene was starting to feel so...petty. So what if the man responded to him? If he were honest with himself, he was responding to Picard as well. 

With a snort, Q moved away and, after a moment, Picard grabbed his catch, took a descaler from the tackle box, and began to prepare the fish for cooking (after checking thoroughly with his tricorder to make sure it was safe to eat). He was careful not to scrape the skin off his trembling hands, and was relieved to find a small flamer in the box to make his fire. Soon, the smell of cooking fish permeated the entire area, and Picard's mouth watered through several swallows before he could pull his dinner onto a plate (there were two in their gear, he noted, so Q must like to eat sometimes) and tuck in. 

In the meantime, Q had caught and thrown back several fish, as if to emphasize his prowess. Picard watched the movement of Q's arm as he cast, the quickness of his response to the pull at the fishing rod, the contempt with which he threw the fish back into the lake, and felt himself grow so full of lust and longing that, despite everything, it was hard to force down his dinner. 

When he had eaten enough of the fish to make it look as though he had wanted to eat it, Picard stored the rest in a cold container from their gear, stomped out the last of the fire, and stood uncertainly. Q was standing nearby, the fishing tackle lying on the ground, forgotten. 

"Do you want to try the path around the lake again?" Picard asked, his voice higher than he'd meant it to be. 

And slowly Q turned to the only person in the universe he could be certain existed, and frowned. The expression was almost fierce, and yet it was kinder than any smile Picard could remember on that face. 

"Do you want me, Jean-Luc?" that sensual voice asked, a simple request for information. No mockery. No challenge. Picard felt his knees give at the sound. He knew it would be cowardly not to acknowledge the directness of the question. And then he knew he was a coward. 

"Want you?" he asked. 

Q smirked, though his eyes were not unkind. "I think you do." He stepped a little closer, and it seemed to Picard that he could feel his companion's body heat reaching across the short space which separated them. He wanted to sway towards it, breathe Q in through his lungs, touch him and be -- 

_And be what?_ he demanded harshly of himself. Was this really all he was? Had he no other ambition but to drop to his knees and elbows and beg Q to... 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Q said quietly, amazing them both. "There's just us, and you're very attractive. I could almost believe I came here willingly, if you were part of my agenda." 

And Picard could no longer keep his eyes from closing at the sound of that voice. What was it about Q's words that they could wrap around him like that? The vowels and consonants ran along his nerves and seemed to warm and chill him at the same time. He was certain, absolutely certain, that if Q touched him again he would completely lose himself...what little there was of himself. And he couldn't have that. Almost feeling pain at it, he forced his eyes open. 

"Q," he said, his deep voice competing with Q's for sensual value. "I may be attracted to you, but we can't act on it." 

"Why not?" the amused voice asked. 

"Because we don't know what sort of...ties we may have to others. Perhaps that threat you keep talking about is counting on our...lack of control. It's a romantic setting here, and we're being forced to rely on one another. We don't know anything about our real lives. So we should do nothing here we might later regret." 

Q was silent, acknowledging to himself the courage and honesty it had taken Picard to discuss their situation like that. Abruptly, he realized he admired this man more than he did himself. The thought shook him considerably. 

"If that's what you think, Jean-Luc," Q said, again surprising both of them with his tone of voice, "then I'll respect it. But I must tell you, I keep wondering what I could have been thinking about, if I came here of my own will. You suggested I might be a naturalist, or some such thing, but looking at all this foliage just makes me long for civilization, and if I never fish again for eternity I think I'll be quite content. In fact, thinking it over quite seriously, there's only one thing I can think of that might have interested me about this place." Q paused, and looked into Picard's eyes, noting once again how expressive and hazel they were in the sunlight. "And that, my friend, is you." 

In two steps, Picard was standing next to Q, and in less than two seconds he was pressing his lips into the soft, full mouth of his companion. His arms came up and around Q's tall frame, and his hips ground roughly into his companion's with an urgency that embarrassed and inflamed him. 

Simple surprise made Q withstand Picard's body for a half-moment, then with a rush of blood in his ears he reached his own arms around the strong, trembling body that pressed against his and drew Jean-Luc close. Again he was aware of feeling alive and alert. The boredom that had haunted him from his first known moment of consciousness was vanquished completely, and he began to explore within himself what he wanted to do to this bald, short, incredibly compelling man. 

But then, unable to stop himself, Q whispered mockingly, "But what about our unknown ties to others in our real life?" 

Picard wrenched himself away from Q with fury, turned, and walked onto the path which led, they both knew, only around the lake and then back again. 

"Jean-Luc, wait!" Q hurried after him, growling when Picard didn't stop, then reaching with his longer legs to overtake the man, grab his arm, and spin him around. 

Panting, lips tight with anger, Picard wrenched away from him, but Q's grip tightened cruelly and jerked Jean-Luc up against his body, jolting them both with the hard contact. With his other hand under Picard's chin, he pushed his face up and covered his lips with his own. 

The kiss was instantly deep and probing, fiercely so, and both of them became aware of their own and the other's heartbeat pounding against their own and the other's chest, and suddenly the sensation was so erotic that Jean-Luc moaned into Q's mouth and pressed as much of himself against the taller man as he could. 

Q sucked the man's tongue into his mouth gently and shuddered as Jean-Luc twined that warm softness around him. Slowly, Picard was pushing his fingers though Q's dark hair, and Q reached around to the back of his uniform and began to pull it away from Jean-Luc's body. 

"Q," the man groaned, almost a protest. 

"Mmmm, must touch you," Q murmured back, no longer bothering to pretend to either of them that he was any less aroused than Picard was. Though he had yet to remove his own uniform since he had awoken on this world, Q found that the material of Jean-Luc's gave way easily under his fingers, making him think he must have done this before. And yet it was the only familiar thing in this experience. When he finally found the bare skin of Picard's shoulders by sliding his hands under his turtleneck, the feel thrilled him with its taut, warm smoothness. The way the man's breath quickened while his hips ground into his own was also intoxicating, and, impatient now, he shoved the rest of the uniform down until it hung from Jean-Luc's waist. 

The tank under the shirt had him wondering how many layers he was going to have to deal with, but Q found that it came off easily enough when Picard helped, and then he had the man's chest under his fingertips: more warm skin and soft hair and pale nipples. 

"Oh...Dieu...more," Jean-Luc whimpered as Q brushed his chest, and, acting on impulse, Q bent his head down and licked the right nipple, causing Picard to hiss and arch his back, almost toppling both of them to the ground. 

Which wouldn't be such a bad thing, Q thought, especially as that bed in the cabin seemed much too far away. The ground here was soft enough, and soon he had Picard on his back, chest rising and falling quickly with deep, almost desperate gasps. But then, his own breathing wasn't exactly shallow or even. 

Taking advantage of their prone state, Q bent his head back to that right nipple and sucked it, alternating gentle and hard pulls while Picard continued to make noises that went straight to Q's groin. 

Picard thought he was going to explode. Part of his mind -- a small part -- was still trying to maintain some control, was assuring him that he and Q must be lovers in their real life to react to each other like this, that he wasn't to blame for anything he did when he didn't know who he was, that he and Q were consenting adults (of whatever species). The rest of his mind was simply screaming with the desire to be closer to Q, to be deeper, to drown in the feel of him, to lose himself completely. And this part of his mind was definitely winning. 

So as his back arched and his hips pressed up, Picard's hand went to the fastenings of Q's uniform and dragged the material down and out of the way, removing the tank without much help from Q, as his lover was still busy driving him insane with his lips on his right nipple. Finally, in desperation, Picard put his hands to Q's head and dragged his mouth to the left, causing Q to chuckle while he nevertheless sucked hard at the neglected spot. 

"Yessss." Picard wanted to say something more coherent, but wound up moaning without words as his own hands found the pleasures of Q's skin, moving in circles, trailing what felt like fire trails across Q's body, then targeting his nipples and squeezing firmly. 

"Jean-Luc..." Q groaned, his deep voice like music as it vibrated through Picard's body. 

"Tell me," the man said, frustrated that while this all felt wonderful it was all still so unfamiliar. "Tell me what feels good. I want to...make you...feel goooood." 

"Just keep touching me," Q told him roughly, not wanting to admit he was making this up as he went along. 

But Picard smiled and looked relieved, and suddenly Q didn't mind admitting his ignorance anymore. Savoring the action now, he lowered his head and they were kissing again, exploring and nibbling while they sought out and teased sensitive spots on their partner's chest. And Q wished they were naked, right now, both of them. 

With a deep growl he sat up, tearing himself out of Picard's arms. 

"What..." Picard looked lost. 

"Sorry...wait," Q muttered, pulling his boots off. 

With a grin, Picard sat up as well and began pulling off his own boots, then the rest of his uniform. But somehow he and Q ended up pulling off more of each other's clothes than their own, tangling them together so that they were almost too distracted to continue. But determination saw them through, and with mutual sighs of pleasure they stretched back out on the grass by the well-worn path to explore the uncovered delight of their lover's body. 

Though he wanted to follow the proper etiquette, Picard found his hands going almost immediately to Q's erection, shuddering at the groan Q uttered as his fingers lightly stroked the softness and strength he found there. Uncertainty melted away as Q began to moan more loudly and closed his eyes even as he was reaching for Picard's urgently erect penis, causing the man to tremble as his warm hands closed around the wet shaft. 

Their mouths were busy, not only with making noise, but with kissing, licking, and nibbling every part of the body pressed close to their own which they could reach without stopping the movement of their hands. As their need increased their movements grew less coordinated, and yet they managed to find a rhythm: hard, fast, and good. Sooner than either had expected, they came together, the warm semen oozing between their fingers as they both maintained their hold on the other even after the last of their gasps and shudders had passed. Not wanting to lose their contact, they lay there, touching, listening to the other breathe. 

Then Q leaned forward for a kiss that went on and on, and with the return of a stirring in their bodies they realized they weren't finished. 

Q cut off his chuckle at the desperate look on Picard's face. 

"What is it, Jean-Luc?" he asked as tenderly as he could. Inside, he seemed to want nothing now but tenderness...and to touch Picard some more. He really wasn't the person he had thought he was at all. The idea terrified him, but he wasn't about to stop this. 

"I want..." Picard's face suffused with color. "I keep...seeing us together." Q's puzzled frown made him try again. "I want you...inside me." 

The blood rushed to Q's cock, stiffening it instantly and with incredible hardness within Picard's grasp. His eyes rolled back at the rushing sensation, and without thought he pressed a deep, deep kiss onto his lover's lips while he rubbed his erection into that hand, shaking almost violently. 

Q's reaction gave Picard the courage he needed to explain the difficulty. "But I don't know...how to begin. I suspect it's...complicated." 

"We'll just go slow," Q said with a rough and unsteady voice, running his hands down the lean sides of this incredible man. How had he kept from jumping on top of him back in the cave when they first woke up? Breathing in deeply the smell of sweat and semen, he licked a wet trail from the nape of Picard's neck to his right temple, then kissed the man's closed eyes while an idea occurred to him. 

"Let me..." he murmured as he took Picard's hands in his and gathered the semen there into his own hands, then used it to lubricate his penis. Jean-Luc grunted in agreement and, hesitantly, rolled over on his stomach, aware that his sweaty back and rear had grass stuck to them. 

Q smiled, but didn't chuckle, at the sight, then removed several of the offending blades with his lips and tongue, pausing to kiss delicate patterns, and Picard groaned and instinctively spread his legs. Q shifted himself into position, and then lightly explored the cleft below him. 

"Oh, God...yes," Jean-Luc was saying softly as he touched him. "Please...yes..." 

When Q actually touched the man's anus, his whole body jerked, and the legs spread wider, and Q thought of simply pushing his way inside -- his body certainly thought that was a good way to proceed -- but like Jean-Luc he suspected it was more complicated. Cautiously, he explored, well aware that the semen he was using for lubricant was starting to dry. 

"You're so tight," he muttered even as Picard whimpered at the finger pressing inside him. "I would hurt you. I couldn't..." 

"I don't care," Picard asserted. 

"Well, I do!" Q snapped, hating the anxiety that was churning his stomach. He really, really didn't want to stop, but he couldn't fit in there without...ah, but the muscle around his finger was relaxing a bit as he continued pushing inside. He tried moving in circles, going in and out, and was rewarded with painfully erotic sounds of pleasure from Picard as the muscle relaxed further. 

The solution to the drying semen presented itself most practically when he noticed that his mouth had gone dry. Working at it a bit, quietly, he got moisture into his mouth and spat into his free hand, then added that to the lubricant on his erection while slipping a second finger inside Picard and loosening him further. He stole a look down at himself. Perhaps three fingers would be enough. 

"Now!" Jean-Luc pleaded. "Now, oh please, Q. I can't take it anymore!" 

Carefully, needing to do exactly what the man beneath him said and yet frightened that he would hurt what had suddenly become the most important person in the world to Q (granted there weren't many competing for the position except himself, it was nevertheless an amazing development), Q pressed the tip of himself to Picard's opening...and met perfect resistance inside. 

_We've done this before,_ Q thought with satisfaction, filling his lover to the hilt and listening to a howl of pleasure rising from Picard's throat. 

It was everything Picard had thought it might be, being filled by Q. Every nerve ending was alight with sensation, as somehow the warmth and friction and movement from deep inside him was spreading out through his whole system. He was as certain as Q that they had done this before, though he remembered nothing of it and couldn't believe it possible to forget such ecstasy. He wanted more and more of it, and thrust back as best he could, spreading his legs out wider, which did, in fact, allow Q to go deeper. 

"You feel so good," Q grated out as he tried thrusting and felt them both shudder at the spiraling desire of and for it. The warm tension slid powerfully over his erection, which pulsed in time to his frantic heart. "So good...so good...so...good..." 

"Perfect," Picard whispered. "Perfect inside me." And yet the image of his dreams seemed to demand that he raise his hips and, after the startled reaction from Q gave way to understanding and accommodation, the man wound up on his knees and elbows as Q drove himself in even more deeply, over and over. 

The unfamiliar sensations were so powerful and beautiful that both of them had trouble remembering to be gentle, and again they fumbled to find a sustainable rhythm. Picard felt the strain through his whole body, but somehow that only made the pleasure more intense. The dreams he'd had were nothing compared to the burning warmth and wrenching stimulation of his nerves. He seemed made of nothing but pleasure and being pleasured...and perhaps that was all he was after all, born in the cave to be like this with and for Q. 

Q's orgasm hit him like a the deluge of a waterfall, pouring down through him and then out, into his lover as he howled, pushing forward in one last thrust that forced them both to the ground. He lay there gasping for several moments, then rolled Picard over to kiss him...only to discover with a stab of remorse that Jean-Luc hadn't come. 

"Oh no," he said, looking into Picard's glittering eyes with deep apology. 

But Picard was still incoherent with the tense pleasure of his body and his overwhelming need to come. Having Q inside him had been incredible, but it hadn't quite peaked to the point where he could find release. 

But Q's hand was around him now, stroking him, and in only a moment he was coming, hard and long, until all he knew in the world was the feel of it...and Q, watching him come. 

And then it was over, and he didn't know anything at all for a little while. 

  
Jean-Luc!" he heard Q calling, and felt his warm hand shaking his shoulder. 

"What?" he asked, still half out of it. 

A heavy weight he later realized was Q's head fell to his chest. "Thank you. Oh, Jean-Luc, you really...ha! you had me there. Don't do that again." 

"What do you mean?" Picard tried to lift his head, but found it too difficult. He'd never been so relaxed, he was certain, not even in his unknown life. And he felt wonderful...perfect...except, anything that bothered Q bothered him. And Q was still resting against him as though painfully relieved. He forced his head up and stroked the side of Q's face. "What's wrong? Please, tell me." 

"You blacked out," Q whispered. "I thought I had hurt you." 

Picard felt a wave of tenderness burn through his body, almost bringing out tears (which had threatened more than once recently). 

"I...I was just overwhelmed with it...with you." He chuckled. 

"What?" Q asked at the sound of that deep laughter, relaxing as he realized this must all be another part of sex he had forgotten about. 

"Wait until I manage to do that to you." 

"Do what?" Q asked sharply. His deepest instincts rebelled against the idea of being in the submissive position Picard had just assumed...and yet, if it were Picard inside him. He felt his blood rush again at the thought. 

"Make you pass out." Picard laughed harder. "You know, you should take it as a compliment." 

Growling, Q bit lightly at Picard's neck, surprised when the man gasped and jerked at the touch. Evidently he'd found a sensitive spot. 

A drop of water hit Q's back. Once. Then in several places. They both turned their faces up to see...and were splashed lightly with more water. 

Picard laughed. "Nature seems to approve." Q raised an eyebrow at him. "Instant shower." 

"Don't like being sticky with my cum?" Q teased, then watched in delight as color once again filled Picard's face. There seemed to be no end to the man's sexual energy, or to his own. 

How delightful. 

And as Picard watched that grin spread across Q's face as the rain grew a bit eager, though it was still warm and pleasant, the man felt an astonishing rush of energy. Coming up from the ground in a pounce, he rolled Q over on his back and kissed him deeply while firmly twisting his nipples. The resultant groan aborted any protests Q might have made, and Picard reveled in the erotic feel of rain trickling over his back and backside and thighs as his front pressed closely to Q's firm and responsive body. He began to lick each raindrop off Q's face as it fell, until he decided the rain on Q's neck was more deserving of attention. 

And there he hit the jackpot. 

Q's neck was a minefield of sensitive spots, and soon he had his lover moaning and gasping and pressing hard against his thigh. Fastening his lips on one spot right over the jugular, he sucked hard and reveled in the sound of Q's cries before he rolled them both to the side, wanting access to Q's smooth ass. Lightly his fingers trailed patterns over the warm curves, then, just experimenting, he tried using his fingernails to scrape over the skin. 

"More...harder..." Q moaned, his body tensing with need, "harder..." 

Picard obliged, running his nails over the sensitive skin without digging in. He wouldn't do anything to hurt Q. In fact, pleasing him had become the primary goal of Jean-Luc's short life. 

So while his left hand continued to trace patterns, he used his right hand, slick with rainwater, to explore the center of Q's body, discovering the same tightness that Q had. Using only the force he needed, he slid a finger inside, pleased beyond words when Q's groans intensified and he moved his legs apart. 

"I'm beginning to understand how this works," Q said in a suddenly clear voice, as though the surprise of it had brought him clarity of mind. In retaliation, Picard thrust hard and deep, and Q jerked and shuddered at the pleasure of it as he went back to simple and heartfelt moans. 

"Do you want me...the way I wanted you?" Picard asked. 

"I...I don't...know," Q said. Everything Jean-Luc was doing felt absolutely wonderful, but something still rebelled at the idea of being down on his elbows and knees with Picard...oh, even as he thought it his need increased. 

"Can you enter me from the front?" he asked, stifling a groan of protest as Picard stopped thrusting into him with his finger as he thought. 

"I don't know," the man said, trying to envision the diagram when he wasn't exactly in an engineering frame of mind. He pulled his finger out of Q and helped him roll over on his back. His lover's erection was beautiful, and he wanted to bend down and kiss it, but he had a greater need right now to be inside Q, front or back or however his partner wanted it, and once he started kissing Q down there he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop. 

But the look on Q's face, so passionate and yet so uncertain, was threatening to break his heart. Cursing his lack of memory because he wasn't sure how to make Q feel good, he straddled his lover and trailed his fingers over Q's chest, then moved to his fingernails and pressed harder, hoping the slight pain would work again. 

It did. Q's back arched and his dark eyes went darker with increased desire. Unfortunately, that meant that his opening was even more removed from Picard's increasingly painful erection. He felt the tip beginning to leak with precum, and realized he had access to new lubricant, if he could just see how to... 

"Raise your legs," he ordered gently, helping Q bring his long limbs over his hips as he knelt between Q's legs. Scooting forward, he put the backs of Q's thighs over the top of his own, and then raised Q's ass a little higher with his hands until Q's opening was just where he hoped they both wanted it. 

Taking some of his precum onto his index finger, he slipped it into Q and moved in circles, relaxing the muscle as Q groaned and closed his eyes, his face accepting the lightly falling rain that surrounded them with trickling warmth. Like Q had done, he slipped a second and then a third finger inside, and at that point realized there was a particularly sensitive spot inside Q that made his lover moan and whimper and spread his knees out wider while still maintaining their position. Picard rubbed that tiny spot several times and watched Q's breathing grow more and more ragged. 

"Do you want me inside you now?" Picard asked in a rush, loving the way he felt and the way Q looked. 

"Yes...yes...inside me...hurry...I must have you in me or I won't...make it..." 

Smiling at the plan he'd formed, Picard took Q's prominent erection in his hand even as he guided himself into Q's relaxed opening, thrusting in deeply as he pumped down firmly, and Q's full-throated yell seemed to echo off the rain and right back into his soul. Keeping the rhythm steady and his movements in conjoined tempo, Picard thrust in deeper and stroked harder and watched the play of delight and desire and surprised vulnerability across his lover's face. 

_I don't care what I've forgotten,_ Picard thought. _Nothing in my life could be better than this._

The emotions inside Q were a strange blend of conflicting and conjoining. He felt pleasure, deep and intense -- mind-blowing, in fact. But he also felt gratitude and joy and affection and a craving for more. 

"Harder," he was saying, meaning it, needing it. His legs were wrapped high and tight around Picard now, trying to pull him closer and deeper. Somehow all sensations had become pleasure, and the pain he felt only made the pleasure better. Somehow he simply wanted the feelings to increase, the more intense, as long as they came from Jean-Luc, the better. "Please...harder." 

Picard obliged again, one strong hand helping to hold Q's body up and in place, the other pumping smoothly, using Q's own precum as lubricant. His hips slammed him forward and deep, deep inside Q as he shuddered and moaned and called again and again for Picard to give him more, to continue to fill him, to go in harder and deeper still. Picard saw with surprise that Q's tears were mingling with the rain on his face. He couldn't tell about his own. He thought he might be crying with joy, but he didn't care. Q's words were allowing him to be as rough as he wanted, to force himself as much inside this incredible lover as he wanted to with the surety that he was giving the same pleasure he was receiving. How compelling, how arousing, how gorgeous his lover looked! Those strong features had become so expressive, and every muscle tensed and released under his soft, smooth skin. 

Even the rain was perfect. The whole world should wash down on them. 

And as if in answer, distant thunder cracked through the sky and Q began to feel his desire break something inside him, deliciously, painfully. With awe he felt himself ripped completely open to this moment and to this man who could make him feel this way. 

And yet fear kept him back, made him struggle to get out the coherent words he needed for his reassurance: 

"Are we...we going to...do this...again?" 

Picard screamed as he thrust even harder and felt the edge of his orgasm pushed just out of reach by the needy insecurity in Q's voice. He felt angry at that tone, as though it were some enemy trying to attack Q that he could beat with his fists. 

"Forever!" Picard shouted hoarsely, and then felt Q come in his hand, spurting semen over both of them as his body bent backward. Strong muscles massaged the man's cock, drawing out his own delirious orgasm in wave after wave as another round of thunder shook the ground and opened the clouds to a torrent from heaven. 

Collapsing on top of Q's heaving chest and trembling body, Picard was gratified to see that he had gotten his wish. Q was out for the count...so much so that Picard worried he might breathe in water. Despite his weak muscles he moved up Q's body to use his head as a shield, taking the opportunity to study in minute detail his lover's face. 

"Jean-Luc?" Q asked several minutes later, his eyes still closed. 

"Yes, Q?" 

Q smiled and opened his eyes to reveal his affectionate gaze. 

"Don't you think we'd better get out of this before we drown?" 

  
Having spread out their uniforms as best they could to dry, Q and Picard lay spoon-fashion, wrapped up in the thermal blanket and each other, listening to the storm outside. 

"So you think maybe we did come here on our own?" Q said, running his fingertips lightly through the hair on Picard's chest. This all felt so good. No wonder he'd been unhappy before, if this were what he had forgotten. 

"Perhaps. I can certainly see wanting to be alone with you. It's only the loss of our memories that makes me worry..." Picard's voice trailed off, and with tender amusement Q realized his lover was falling asleep in his arms. It was incredible to compare this sleepy warm body with the stuffed shirt of the cave. He knew, despite Jean-Luc's deserved exhaustion, that if he turned now to his lover this lovely body would respond, would spread his legs and let Q inside again. And yet he also knew that it felt wonderful simply to lie here, and that he should let his lover sleep. 

This beautiful body under his fingertips, he thought, belonged to his lover and thus to him as well, as much as his own -- oh, he was growing hard just thinking about this -- belonged to Jean-Luc. He looked down in the dimming light of the late afternoon and saw those curved brows and that pale, warm skin. Carefully, not wanting to disturb the man in his embrace, Q moved so that he could see this naked body more completely. He thought of touching that body, of rubbing his erection on that skin...all over his chest, against those arms, especially the soft flesh of the undersides, and his strong calves and thighs, and even on top of his bald head, and even as Q laughed in little breaths he got harder still, thinking of just wrapping Picard around him and stroking back and forth while the man urged him on with whimpers and little involuntary movements of pure pleasure. 

Quickly Q worked to stifle his own moan of desire that was caused by the images, unable to take his eyes off the focus of his desire, raking Jean-Luc's unconscious form again and again with his avid gaze while the blood rushed to his groin and pulled him painfully tight and hard and hot. He lingered on the sight of his chest, his beautiful legs, his strong hands, his narrow hips, his cute little toes, his penis in its nest of hair, his curved ears, his aquiline nose, his lips that were firm even in sleep, the soft down of his gray-black chest hair, his jaw and his neck and his shoulders... 

"Ohhhhhh," Q breathed out as softly as he could while his erection grew eager in the extreme. Keeping his eyes running over every line and plane and angle beneath him, Q moved one hand down between his own legs and began the lightest of strokes, fighting back more groans as his erection twitched and burned under his own touch. He imagined that it was Picard's hand touching him. He imagined that he could kiss those pale nipples, trace a trail of rainbow warmth over that flat stomach, rub his whole face over that luscious groin, and the orgasm began to build throughout his whole silently straining body. 

Q's eyes had forced themselves shut by the time Picard opened his own and saw his lover's painfully restrained act of masturbating, the reason for which he immediately realized. 

His heart twisting, he whispered, "Q...love." 

Q's eyes opened and his body jerked. "I can't...wait," he groaned, little lights of ecstasy building up behind his clouded eyes. 

"Then come," Picard murmured, his voice deep and caressing. "Come all over me." 

"Oh! Jean-Luc!" Q groaned loudly, his whole body convulsing as he moved his hips up and forward and sprayed himself all over the pale, smooth skin of the man he cherished more than life. Picard gasped at the heat dripping over his chest and stomach and down his hips, and at the sight of Q's face as he came; then the man held up his arms to catch his lover's body as Q collapsed on top of him, gasping and shuddering. 

"I'm sorry," Q managed to say finally, his lips against Picard's shoulder. "I know you need to sleep. But I couldn't...help it." 

"Poor Q," the man chuckled, tired to the bone but feeling the now familiar stirring in his groin. "Have you tried to sleep? Perhaps you could. I don't like the idea of leaving you alone." 

"I should just be able to hold you without needing to make love to you." Q's voice was full of self-accusation. 

"Why should you? When I'm awake I can't." To prove his point, Picard moved slightly and let Q feel his hardness. Q pulled back and looked down hungrily at the red-flushed and erect proof that he too was desired. 

"What do you want?" Q muttered as he stared, voice thick with lust. "Tell me anything and I'll do it." 

Picard grew even harder and closed his eyes before whispering, "Kiss me...there." 

Surprised and pleased, Q's eyes flew to the man's face, which had turned red with embarrassment. 

"Look at me, my beloved," Q crooned softly, and watched Picard force open his eyes. Q smiled, putting everything into his eyes, and then slowly stretched down and planted a lingering kiss at the weeping tip of Picard's erection. Jean-Luc pushed his hips forward with a groan and pleaded for more. 

And then Q had an idea. 

Careful to keep his teeth from grazing that soft skin, Q opened his mouth and covered the entire velvet tip. Picard jerked and whimpered, and Q forced the lips down farther, until the pulsing cock was deep in his mouth and Picard was groaning loudly. Placing his hands on the man's hips to hold them still, Q moved his head up and down, taking Picard in deeper and deeper. He even figured out how not to gag -- and again got the distinct impression that he'd done this before -- and managed to take it all, his nose deep in that dark hair, when Picard shouted a warning. Seconds later, warm liquid was rushing down Q's throat, and he swallowed greedily, running his tongue over that frantically beating vein, draining his lover dry. 

Picard couldn't stay awake a second after that, and Q stared at him many long moments before taking him into his arms and firmly shutting his own eyes. Maybe if he really tried he could join Jean-Luc in sleep. 

And in their dreams the lovers were united in mind and body while eternity stretched before them, beckoning with sweet delights and pure joy. 

  
Picard was pleased to discover that Q was sleeping when he awoke late the next morning, pleasured to feel his lover's arms around him, uncomfortable in the extreme that his body was covered with dried semen, and in pain from his intense need to urinate. Slowly, he tried to glide from Q's arms, but his lover awoke instantly and tightened his hold. 

"Where are you going?" the sleep-rough voice demanded. 

"Just outside for a minute." 

"Ugh. This stuff really dries sticky, doesn't it?" 

"Q, I really have to go." 

"Kiss me first." 

"Q..." The faint protest was lost in a protracted exploration of each other's mouths, then, with overt reluctance, he let Jean-Luc go. The man walked outside quickly, and Q smiled at the sight of that naked body in action, then stretched, made a face at his own sticky skin, stood himself, and walked out into the bright sunlight. 

There was something to this sleeping, he decided. The rain had left everything clean and fresh, and he realized that due to his change in attitude about being here, the forest now looked quite lovely. He heard Picard walking toward him and turned with a smile, then nodded toward the path to the lake. 

"Shall we see about getting ourselves clean?" he suggested. 

Picard nodded, smiling, then grimaced. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I feel I must be beaming like an idiot. I love you." 

In one second Q had Picard in his arms and was lowering his head for a kiss. "You look perfect," he said against the man's lips. "And I love you too." 

"Say that again." 

Q felt his whole body react to the need in Jean-Luc's voice. This was exquisite, to be vulnerable to someone who was vulnerable to him in equal measure. 

"I love you." Q let his voice drop and thicken, and moved his hands down to Picard's bare ass to trail patterns. 

"I...I want to bathe in the lake first," Picard gasped out. 

"Don't play coy, mon amor." 

"I feel filthy." 

"What if I asked you to stay here and do to me what I did for you?" Q asked, voice deeper and thicker than ever, and Picard felt the noise touch each nerve of his body. "What if I asked you to kneel down...right here...and take me in your...beautiful mouth and..." 

Picard moaned and swayed towards him, and their mouths met in a hungry and desperate kiss. "I'd do anything for you," Picard grated out when he could, and began to kiss a path down Q's long body, falling to his knees as his fingertips trailed down his lover's smooth back and cupped his ass. "You know that." 

Q began to feel guilty. He'd been teasing, really, but now he wanted nothing more than to get what he'd only jokingly asked for. 

"Remind me not to...dare you again," he groaned as Picard's mouth touched him delicately, then surrounded him and took him in, all warmth and wetness and so soft and moving so insistently. "Oh...that feels so good...you're so...so good to me. You feel so good around me." He put his hands on Picard's head and felt his knees trembling. "Don't stop...please...love...my beautiful lover...I can't believe...please...I love you so much...don't stop." Picard's tongue began to move around him as the man realized he too had done this before and Q fought to keep from pumping his hips. He had a sudden vision of them standing there in the sunlight with Picard kneeling in front of him, his face buried in Q's groin, and came with a sudden ferocity that surprised them both. Q almost fell, but Picard's hands on his hips helped him stay upright, and in a moment the man stood up and they embraced under the sun, Q sucking in his lover's tongue and tasting himself as he ground his hips against the body in his tight, loving embrace. 

"The lake!" Picard gasped weakly as soon as his tongue was free. 

"I'll carry you there if you want." 

"Just let...me...go." 

"Never. But I will let you take a dip in the lake." 

Q's arms loosened and dropped, and Picard, very much aware that his body was showing obvious signs of arousal, stepped away and turned to walk down the path. Q followed closely, watching Picard move, until they reached the water. The man waded in immediately and began to swim, and, after a few minutes' hesitation, Q followed. He seriously wanted to let Picard have some privacy, and stayed away, splashing about until he realized he was actually quite good at swimming. Like Picard, he found it lovely to be clean again, and thought about making some sort of tub and bringing it next to the cabin so they could bathe more easily. 

Oh, the many ways he had planned to make love to Jean-Luc! They were going to need a lot of water. He dived into the clean lake and then surfaced, looking around for his lover. 

Picard was no longer in the water, however, and it took a moment before Q turned to the shore, where the man was standing there, looking at him swim, his erection plainly visible even from a distance. As Q watched, Picard moved slightly, the water over his skin catching the light and making that gorgeous body sparkle, and then he raised a hand to run it over his own chest. 

_You tease!_ Q thought incredulously as his body began to swim desperately towards shore. 

Picard turned and walked down the path, and Q swam as fast as he could. When he finally waded onto land, however, his lover had disappeared from sight. Growling, Q ran to the cabin and burst through the door, only to find Picard standing there calmly -- as calmly as a man could stand with a massive erection between his legs -- his hands behind his back. 

"What do you think you're doing?" 

Picard smiled. "It occurred to me that we might have some of this in the medkit." He held up a tube of lubricant. 

"And what..." Q swallowed. "...do you think you're going to do with that?" 

"Throw you down on the bed and fuck you until you pass out." 

The full-body shudder Jean-Luc's words evoked hadn't quite finished before Picard had thrown the tube on the bed and grabbed Q with both hands. Q thought of struggling playfully, but he wanted this too badly to put up even the most token show of protest. Very soon, Picard had him face-down on the bed, holding him down with weight on his legs, running his hands over Q's back and buttocks for only a minute before reaching for the lubricant. 

"What are you doing?" Q asked, his eyes shut tight and his voice small. 

"Lubricating my penis so I can be inside you," Picard said, smiling to himself as his lover groaned. 

"Let me up so I can get on my knees." Picard obliged. Q didn't even remember that he'd once disliked the idea of taking this position. 

Jean-Luc's lubricated fingers pushed inside him. 

"Hurry," Q whimpered. 

"I don't want to hurt you." 

"Screw that! You said you were going to fuck me, so fuck me!" 

Grabbing Q's hips and closing his eyes with the feel of it, Picard thrust inside his love and began pumping. "Oh! You feel so good...so perfect...so hot and...tight and all mine." 

"Yours! Always yours...love...harder..." 

Picard obliged, slamming repeatedly into Q's perfect ass and feeling the pleasuring shocks throughout his whole shaking and sweating body. He could feel his release building, but tried with all his will to push it off when he heard Q groan: "Make this last. Please...my beloved...don't stop...please..." 

Thinking of ugly things is difficult when one has practically no memory, but Picard did his best, controlling his breathing and trying to distance himself just slightly from the noise and movement of his partner. But, oh, this felt so wonderful! Everything that was Q had become so erotic to him he could hardly stand it, and now he was inside him! The hot, strong walls of Q's rectum were massaging his cock perfectly, and the rhythm and power his lover wanted were driving him insane. He began to feel the strain along his legs and back, and when Q began pushing back with his arms in perfect tempo, Picard thought it possible he was simply going to explode. There were certainly enough explosions going off inside his head to make it feel as though he might physically combust, and the idea of exploding like this, of dying like this, made him want to come even more. 

But the painful restraint was easily worth it as he listened to Q's now constant screams of pleasure. Every muscle of his lover's body was trembling, and his head was thrown back with the joy of every thrust. 

"I love...looking...at you," Picard managed to get out. "Look at me...fucking you." 

"Never stop! Never...stop!" Q shouted, then howled and jerked through his orgasm as his arms gave way. Picard was right behind him, forcing out all that he was and more inside his lover, over and over in waves of pleasure that threatened never to end. Unconscious, he fell atop Q's own unmoving body, still inside him, chased even into oblivion by mind-blowing ecstasy. 

  
You've killed me," Picard said sometime later while Q fed him grilled fish with his fingers. "I have nothing anymore but you and I like it that way." 

"Finish your fish and we'll have a wrestling match, winner gets to choose the agenda." 

"Deal," the man said with a smile. 

"Picard? Q?" a woman's voice called from outside. 

The two lovers stared at each other in shock, then scrambled out of the bed to peek out the window. Three people -- a tall, red-haired woman, a blond-haired man, and a young woman with long blonde hair -- were standing in the clearing, all wearing the uniforms Q and Picard had been wearing and back into which they scrambled, fear written plainly on their faces. 

Looking calm, however, they stepped out of the cabin together and walked towards their visitors. A moment passed as they all regarded each other, then tall woman spoke up. 

"We've reviewed the evidence, and it's clear that you lied, Q. Picard is obviously innocent of the charges." 

"What charges?" Picard asked. 

"You don't remember," the blond man said. "Your memories were erased as part of your punishment. But now that you're so obviously innocent, those memories will be returned and you can get on with your life." 

The fear on both Picard and Q's faces was unmistakable. 

"Do you mean you plan to separate us?" 

"Of course," the tall woman said with contempt. "It was only fitting that you had to spend your lives together on this rock when we thought that you were partners in crime, but now that we know you were nothing more than Q's little dupe, you get to return to your life. You have a fine career, and a wife who will probably forgive you, and many friends, and --" 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

The three people standing before him tried to look surprised. Primarily, the young blond woman was looking smug. She did not seem to feel any need to speak yet. 

"Jean-Luc," Q whispered, looking strangled. "What if it's true?" Picard turned to him, ignoring the others completely. Q looked at him with tortured eyes. "What if I --" 

"I don't want to hear it, Q," Picard said. "All we have is our lives here, and I'm not letting these...people ruin it. Are you going to forget what we've said, what we've become, on the word of these strangers?" 

Q looked at him with love and gratitude battling for supremacy. "But your life..." 

"My life is here," Picard said firmly, then looked back at the people he easily hated. "You understand? I don't care what you say, I'm not going anywhere with you." 

The blonde man drew a phaser and pointed it at Picard, but whatever he was going to say died in surprise as Q shoved Picard behind him and placed his own body in the line of fire. Picard struggled, but Q's strength seemed to increase to superhuman proportions, and his body remained the one in immediate danger. 

"This is set to kill, Q," the blonde man said. 

Q glared at him and didn't move. 

"Q, no!" Picard shouted, struggling harder, though without success, to get his body in front instead. 

"Haven't you seen enough?" the blonde woman demanded finally. "They're obviously in love with each other!" 

The blonde man sighed and the phaser disappeared. Q stared at him in amazement and Picard broke free only to realize that the danger was over. 

The tall woman stepped up to Q and looked ready to spit in his face. "Understand this, Q. When you're tired of him I'm not taking you back! Ever!" 

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Q asked incredulously. 

"Let's go," the blonde woman said, smiling broadly at Picard and Q. "It was the agreement." 

"What agreement?" Picard demanded. "What's going on?" 

The three visitors looked at each other, and gestured, and suddenly they were all gone in a flash of light. Picard and Q looked at each other... 

...and remembered. Their entire past lives came rushing at them in a wave of light. They knew about the Continuum and the Enterprise, and all the billions of years that Q had lived and all the hundreds of missions Picard had led, and the minutes went by as they stood there, remembering, their hands finding each other's, their bodies leaning against each other with the dizzy whirl of it. 

And finally, at the end, they remembered why they were here. They knew about the days and days they had spent apart, desperate to be together, while the Continuum asked question after question of Q about this mortal love that he had found. Picard had spent weeks alone on the Enterprise, working himself and his crew hard, waiting and waiting for Q to be allowed to return. 

Finally, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to enjoy each other in peace, they had made a bargain with the entire Continuum. 

For the Continuum's questions had really boiled down to one central issue: was it circumstances and fortune which had made Q and Picard fall in love, or something inevitable about their personalities, something inherently "them" which had done the trick? Willing to do anything to get the Q off their backs, they had agreed to be the mice of this lab experiment, guaranteed that, whatever the outcome, when the experiment was over they would be left alone. Q could, of course, return to the Continuum whenever he liked, and would still be expected to attend regular meetings, but no more inquisitions, no more harassment. 

So Picard and Q had let themselves be put in this little Q-made world outside time with their memories gone and Q's powers suppressed. The Continuum agreed to wait several days, then assess their feelings for each other. If they showed even the barest sign that they were falling in love, then the experiment was over immediately. If they didn't fall in love, they were to stay there at the Continuum's discretion. 

"We were right to agree," Picard said finally. "Unless you regret the loss of Q." He felt himself twist inside with jealousy. 

"Her? Are you insane?" Q asked. "Don't bother being jealous about her." For with the return of their memories and Q's powers they shared their near-telepathic link. 

"Why don't you show me anyway?" Picard said, turning to look in Q's eyes, where the glittering darkness he adored became a part of his consciousness, even as Q greedily drank in his own soul 

The joy and relief were painful, the loss of their love for each other exquisite torture in its replacement, and Q wondered privately (which meant that the Continuum didn't know about it but Jean-Luc did) whether the suppression of his feelings and his powers would have lasted much longer no matter what his brothers and sisters decided. It amazed him that even with their combined strength the Continuum had somehow made him forget even for a day what his heart now beat out for this short, bald, incredibly compelling, sexy, amazing, so incredibly sexy... 

_Don't stop there. Go on, my love..._

And Q let him see what Q had seen when he was looking at Picard's unconscious body on the bed, and the man laughed. 

_Really, Q! You wanted to rub my head?_

For an answer, Q wished them both naked -- having taken over control of this made-up world to block out the damn Continuum; no matter what promises they'd made he didn't trust them not to peek -- Q gently took Picard's hand and guided it to his erection, closing his eyes with a moan as that warm strength eagerly encircled him. 

_I just want to touch you everywhere. I want there to be nothing left of you I haven't touched over and over so that when I touch you there again you're ready for me and I can make you gasp and moan just how I want and you feel as good as I want..._

And then Q was kissing the top of his lover's head with amused and endless affection, and an image came from Picard's mind, his first amnesiac fantasy of Q thrusting into him, touching him, and saying his name, and Q felt how greatly this had made the captain -- even though he hadn't known he was a captain -- uncomfortable, and as Q sent back love and understanding, Picard allowed him to see the follow-up, his erection under the blanket, listening to Q's voice in the dark. 

And then Q couldn't take it anymore, and he moved over and into Picard's mind even as the man's consciousness slipped inside his own, and they were lying down on the white-comforted bed of the white room where they had first made love, and Q's hands were running all over his body while his erection pressed against his stomach. Picard reached for it, and felt in confusion as Q's hand grabbed his and pulled it away. 

_Don't make me tie you down, my love_ the sensual voice said inside his mind, and Jean-Luc groaned and shivered. When they were like this, they had no barriers against each other, and while he could make Q as helpless as he liked as well, the first one to take the initiative, so to speak, had the advantage. Picard and Q both felt, and both understood that the other felt, that sometimes it wasn't enough to make love with each other. Sometimes they both felt the need to make love _to_ their partner, and Q was feeling that way now. Picard reveled in the desperate need Q had now to make Picard insane with pleasure, and he allowed his arms to go loose and his mind to stay bare and unprotected as Q slowly, gently began to trail his fingertips over the soft underside of his arms while his lips tenderly found Jean-Luc's nipples and brushed them, one after the other, time and again, until Picard groaned. 

_Touch me_ there, _love, please._

_Why, Jean-Luc, I'm not even close to_ there, _my beloved._

Picard groaned again, putting everything he had into lying there and being still -- well, partially still. He couldn't help the jerks and shudders, but he also knew his partner didn't mind them, was encouraging them rather fiercely, in fact. He felt everything so intensely now: Q's tongue tracing his left ear, his fingertips rolling his wet nipples in firm strokes, his erection now sliding along his inner thigh, his hip against Picard's own painfully tight cock, and Q's body all along his own, warm and rubbing against him like some sort endless erogenous zone. 

_I'm going to come anyway_ Picard thought almost petulantly, but Q only laughed inside him and welcomed him to try. 

Groaning, Picard realized he couldn't, that as aroused and ready as he was, Q's presence was blocking something vital, some final release to allow him to go over the edge. 

But instead of fighting it, Picard allowed himself to relax even more completely. He need not concentrate on ugly or complicated things to prolong his pleasure, and he let himself think completely of his lover, focusing everything on the way Q felt against him and inside him and around him. 

Q turned him now, pushing soft pillows under his hips and trailing warm, gentle fingers over the backs of his legs -- thinking even warmer, gentler thoughts about how beautiful he found those legs to be -- and around his upper and lower back and then finally over his smoothly curved ass. 

And then Q shifted, and his tongue followed in all the places his fingers had been, long and slow and endlessly gentle, until that warmth was probing his tight opening in the way Q knew drove Picard absolutely insane. 

"Oh! God!" All the relaxation and ease Picard had worked so hard to achieve had completely vanished. His body tensed and he was nothing now but urgent need. _Must have you inside me! Right now!_ His legs spread out and his back arched and his hands made fists into the white comforter and he was moaning now continuously. 

_Patience, my love._ And as the link between them continued to fill Picard with Q's adoration, the tongue went inside him, and the fingers trailed along his inner thighs and finally made their way to his erection. 

Picard was sobbing now, and pleading incoherent little words that were blocking out Q's control. But he fought it and himself desperately, his own need about to overwhelm him. Picard deserved all the pleasure an omnipotent being could bring him and he was not was not WAS NOT going to fail. He could read the tolerance of this human's nerves and he wasn't...quite...there... 

_Please, Q, please, my love, my dear beloved, my soul, Q, now, please, can't you see I'm going insane?_

_Then go insane._

_I won't make it._

_I'm here. I'll always be here. Haven't you realized yet what "always" means to us?_

Dim glimpses of the immortality Q was slowly granting him were offered to the man, but he didn't notice. 

_Now, Q, please. What do you want to hear? I love you!_

_I know that. Hmmm, how does _this_ feel?_

"Aaaaaaaah!" 

_How about this?_

"OH! DIEU!" 

_What about this now?_

"OH-OOOOOOH!" Picard's body was spasming now, and the limit of his ability to feel pleasure had been pushed almost to the point of genuine pain...almost. 

And then Q let himself go. Trailing his wet tongue up his lover's perfect back before he sucked as hard as his human body could on one perfect shoulder, he brought his hot, slick, pounding erection to this man's opening and thrust completely inside. 

Picard came immediately, tightly massaging out Q's own essence, and they screamed and thrashed their way together through wave upon wave of it, echoing the sensations back into each other over and over for what felt like another slice of eternity, on and on until Picard's system simply shut down, taking Q with him into profoundly sweet slumber, twined around each other in body, mind, and spirit. 

  
And though they were outside temporal considerations, it could still only be called a very long time indeed before they eventually returned to the Enterprise, where Riker was again walking towards the ready room with a report in his hand. 

  
THE END 

Picard and Q will return in _Q-Raker._


End file.
